Homecoming
by fallen for your eyes
Summary: "Her head pops up and she gives him a small smile, before twisting herself so she's facing him. Her leg is almost touching his now, and he's not sure what it means. Maybe it means nothing. Maybe it means everything." Or what happens after they kiss. Post 8x18 "Getaway."


Dave stays for an hour before they fill him up with two coffees and send him back to San Diego.

Eric walks him to his car, making sure he has enough gas to get him back and enough coffee to stay awake.

"How long have you two been a thing?" Dave asks. He's a second from opening the car door. Eric doesn't really know the answer.

"Umm-"

"Oh. I see." Dave smiles, almost like he's remembering something. He claps Eric's shoulder. "My advice. Take it slow. Me and Rose nearly broke up four times in our first two weeks of trying this thing before we worked it out. So take it slow, let things figure themselves out."

"Might be a little late for that now."

Dave smiles at him, before opening the door and disappearing into his car.

"Have a safe trip." Eric knocks on the top of the car before stepping away.

"Thanks. Good luck."

He watches the car disappear before he makes his way back into the boatshed. Back to Nell and whatever it is they discovered in the woods.

Because, if he's being honest, he's not really sure where they are anymore. He all but admitted that he was in love with her, that he had been for nearly three years, and she hadn't really said anything about it. He hadn't really said anything about it.

But she had kissed him. She was going to kiss him again, before Dave interrupted. She had agreed when he said they could finish whatever they were doing later, so he's not sure where they are or where they are going but he wants to find out.

She's sipping her tea when he walks back in, her eyes trained on the blank screen in front of her.

He drops onto to the couch, not as close as he was before, but still close enough that he can reach her if he moves his hand far enough.

"All good?"

Her head pops up and she gives him a small smile, before twisting herself so she's facing him. Her leg is almost touching his now, and he's not sure what it means. Maybe it means nothing. Maybe it means everything.

"Yeah. Everything good with you?"

He nods, reaching for his tea, when her hands fall on his arm, stopping him. But she doesn't say anything. She just stares at him, moments too long, breathes turning into seconds, seconds turning into millenniums.

"Do you want to talk-"

"Talk about it? No. Not yet. It's too soon." She moves a fraction closer to him, and he doesn't know whether or not to move forward.

"Okay." He nods. Her hands are still on his arm. Her leg is still touching his.

"Do you want to talk about the car?" Her eyes are wide, and he's pretty sure she's looking at his lips again.

"Not yet."

"Okay."

"I will. I promise. I'm going to get better at talking about it."

She breathes, almost collapsing in on herself. "As long as you need."

He's not sure when, but they are closer again, close enough that he can see the tiny smattering of freckles that line her cheeks, close enough that he's almost certain she's looking at his lips again.

He knows he definitely looking at hers.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" he asks, because the silence is going to kill him faster than she will.

"I don't want to talk."

"Okay." He licks his lips, and her hand starts to slide up his arm, her nose bumping against his.

Her eyes flutter shut, just before her lips are about to touch his. "This is okay right?" she mumbles.

"Yes. More than okay. Encouraged." He takes the last step, pressing his lips against hers, letting everything that had happened in the last six hours finally come through again. He's not sure how, but this kiss is even better than the one from earlier, the one that changed everything from what is was to what it could be.

She sighs against him, and this is it, he tells himself, this is what it feels like to be in heaven.

He's not sure where they are heading, but he knows as long as she's around, he's going to be okay.

xXx

She'd be lying if she said she was a patient person. The second Dave bursts through the door, she's counting down the seconds until he leaves, which she knows is mean, but she's learning something new about Eric Beale and something new about herself. It makes sense that it happens, she had walked in on Kensi and Deeks too many time to count, but she thought they could at least make it through a second kiss before it happened again.

So Nell talks. She smiles when she should, asks questions about his job and his girlfriend and all the appropriate things to talk about. But her mind is somewhere else.

Her mind is stuck on the fact that she can feel Eric's hand less than a centimeter away from her leg. Her mind is stuck on the fact that she wants his hands on her thighs, in her hair, everywhere.

The two times they had kissed, they barely had any contact minus their lips. But she wants to know what his hair feels like under her fingertips, how his throat moves as she licks her away south, what his hands feel like tripping under her shirt.

It's enough to make her blush.

Dave offers his goodbyes, and Eric walks him out, and she's left by herself for a moment, and she doesn't know what to do with it. Because she knows she going to over think it.

She's going to think about the kiss, and the fact that he might not be okay, because he killed someone, and she knows what it feels like to have to do that, and this time it wasn't thousands of miles away or for self-defense.

He's back before she knows it, and then they are talking, or more like not talking, just skirting around the issue. She says things she'll probably forget in the morning, and then, finally, his lips capture hers again.

This is what she had been waiting for.

There is something magical about Eric Beale's lips. She's kissed him a total of three times now, but every time, she feels like something inside of her changes. She surges forward, almost throwing herself into his lap, forcing his hands to move.

They fall to her waist, and she smiles against his lips. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair, and she shifts, so she's able to reach his mouth better, able to feel more of him against her body.

Nell knows they have to talk about it. Because she really likes being able to kiss him, and they need to figure out what they are so she can do that. He told her he loved her today. That he had loved her for years, and never said anything about it.

He told her he loved her today, and it didn't make her want to run away.

She remembers the day he said it happened. She remembers meeting his friends at the bar, and everything just clicking. His friends liked her. When he introduced them, at least three gave Eric a look letting Nell know they knew about her. She remembers Eric's arm on the back of her chair, a few too many drinks, her knowing the answer to a question about something silly, and she remembers hugging him, her legs being lifted off the ground, a feeling like maybe they could be more than just work friends. And that's when it started. The game nights, the breakfast dates, the hanging out with each other more than after work drinks and the occasional holiday spent together so they weren't alone. Three years ago, Eric Beale fell in love with her. Three years ago, she's pretty sure she started almost dating her best friend.

"Wait," she pulls back, partially because she needs to breathe, partially because she needs to think.

He drops his head to the back of the couch, his eyes still trained on hers. His lips are swollen and his hair is a mess, and she realizes she did that. She made him look like a bit of a mess, she was the reason for the lazy smile on his lips, she was the reason he looked so undone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She's trying her best to not think about how his fingertips are playing with the bottom of her shirt, but it's incredibly hard.

"Tell you what?"

"Three years. At Christmas, we had that talk about telling each other everything, and you've kept this a secret for three years, Eric."

He sighs, pushing himself up so he can look at her better. She falls forward in his lap. "I didn't want – I don't want how I feel to make you feel like we need to change what we have."

"So you don't want anything to change?" Her head is spinning, and her hands fall to her sides.

"I never said that," he whispers.

She doesn't know what he wants, and she's not sure what she wants, but she knows she doesn't want it to end like this.

"Is it true?" She asks, her forehead bumping slightly against his.

"Yes."

She kisses him again, slower this time, like they have all the time in the world. She grabs his hand and pushes it past the confines of her shirt, letting him know what she wants. She doesn't trust her voice any more.

His hand slides up her spine, and she has to stop the shiver from running up her body. She somehow pushes herself even closer to him, and drags his lip into her mouth.

"I wouldn't be kissing you if I didn't want to," she says, and he flips them, so he's lying on top of her, and her whole world turns to bliss.

She drags him out of the boathouse before the sun comes up and they take his car back to his place and she kisses him slowly, she kisses him until her head hurts, she kisses him because now she can.

And they haven't talked about it yet, but she can hear him in the shower, and she's in one of his shirts. They have the day, the week, the rest of time. Because she knows how he feels about her now. And she's not there yet, but she is somewhere, somewhere that wants to keep kissing Eric Beale, somewhere that wants to maybe slip into the shower with him.

They have all the time in the world. So she's not going to rush it.

The shower shuts off, and she sits up in his bed, in his shirt, ready to talk about what comes next.

Because whatever it is, as long as she has him, she's ready for it.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I just really wanted to write about my nerds and what happens after 8x18. Here's to hoping we get more kisses and cute moments between them.**


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